


The Wolf and the Crow

by Ruusverd



Series: Echoes of the Fall AU [1]
Category: Echoes of the Fall - Adrian Tchaikovsky, Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Bronze Age AU, First Meetings, Gen, shapeshifter AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:55:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25527790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruusverd/pseuds/Ruusverd
Summary: Geralt and Jaskier’s first meeting in a Bronze Age AU with shapeshifting. World taken from Adrian Tchaikovsky's 'Echoes of the Fall' series.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Echoes of the Fall AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1863010
Comments: 7
Kudos: 14





	The Wolf and the Crow

**Author's Note:**

> Since I think maybe 15 people total have read Echoes of the Fall, (which is a crime, it's an amazing trilogy) it's a Bronze Age/early Iron Age world where every culture/ethnic group has their own animal from they can shift to, and a lot of their traditions/values/etc are based around those animal forms.
> 
> Note about names:  
> Xin'trae = Cintra, in the books it's mentioned as the Elder version of the name. I thought it looked better for this 'verse so I'm using it.  
> Elder Sea tribe = Kaer Morhen, Kaer Morhen is mentioned in the same passage of the books to translate as "Elder Sea Fortress." I used the English version to better fit the pattern of place names in the northern part of the Echoes of the Fall world.  
> Plotka = Roach, if anyone wasn't aware of the Polish version of the name. No deep reason, I just like the sound of Plotka better.  
> Everything else should be self explanatory I think.

Just outside a trading post of the Horse Society, a ruckus was drawing a crowd. The people of the Horse stood back by the gate, watching neutrally as four Coyote men surrounded a young man of the Crow. The Crow knelt in the dirt, scrabbling frantically at the rope tied around his neck which was preventing him from Stepping to his winged form and escaping.

One of the Coyotes darted forward and kicked him. "Thief!" Another kick. "Liar! Thief!"

"I assure you this is simply a misunderstanding! Allow me to explain!" The Crow continued to tug on the rope, but it was too thick and the knot too tight for his thin fingers to budge. His blue eyes, an unusual color in the Crown of the World, were wide with thinly veiled panic. Half his face was tattooed or painted with intricate black swirls, and it made the eye on that side of his face stand out even more strongly.

"Here now, what's this?" A strong voice called from inside the trading post.

The Crow looked up hopefully, then sagged again upon seeing the stranger pushing his way through the gathered crowd. The newcomer had long white hair held back from his face by a leather headband. He was taller than the Coyotes, but built on the same lean, rangy lines. Most notably, he wore a knee-length coat of small iron rings cunningly twisted together to form a flexible yet nearly impenetrable mesh, the signature armor of the Iron Wolves.

Only the priests of the Wolf knew the secret of forging iron, and only the strongest hunters and warriors of the Wolf tribes were able to carry the unnatural metal with them while Stepped. The rituals and training required to make a Wolf into an Iron Wolf were rumored to be long, torturous and not always successful. If the strength of iron was needed, it was far simpler for other tribes to simply hire Iron Wolves as guards or fighters than to subject their own young warriors to such barbaric cruelty.

The Crow also knew that the people of the Wolf viewed both Coyote and Crow as little more than scavengers, nuisances and hangers-on, though occasionally useful ones for trade. No Wolf would stoop to interfere in a squabble between the two, and particularly not an iron-wearer.

The Coyotes obviously felt the same, their postures conveying both fear and blustering confidence as they turned to face the Wolf man. "This doesn’t concern the Wolf! This Crow cheated us! He's a thief!"

The Wolf gazed at them contemptuously, then turned to the gathered Horse people.

"I thought the Horse Society didn't allow fighting within its walls. Where is your vaunted neutrality?"

"They are not within our walls," the Hetman pointed out simply.

The Wolf shook his head, obviously familiar with the pedantic nature of the Horse’s dealings, and knowing there was no use in arguing.

"Please," the Crow begged, "I won the wager fairly, it was a misunderstanding!" He had little hope the Wolf would listen, but he had nothing to lose by trying. The Coyotes would surely kill or permanently cripple him if no one interfered.

The Wolf heaved a deep sigh and looked at the sky as if seeking answers from the clouds. Then he moved forward quickly, drawing out a long iron knife. Before the Coyotes could react, he’d grabbed the Crow by the rope halter around his neck and with a single swift motion sliced through it. The severed rope had not hit the ground before the Crow Stepped and exploded into the sky with a burst of feathers, flying off towards the trees as fast as his wings would carry him.

The Coyotes snarled, forgetting their obsequious postures at this provocation.

"We were owed his blood, and you took him from us. Will _you_ pay the debt?"

"You're welcome to try to collect, if you like," the Wolf offered calmly, gesturing with the knife still in his hand, “but he’s flown off with nothing but the clothes on his back. You’ll no doubt be able to recover whatever it was he took from you. Trading off the rest of his things will more than satisfy any remaining debt.”

The Coyotes snarled again, but slunk away back to the trading post, muttering angrily to each other. The Wolf tucked his knife away, carefully watching the retreating Coyotes, then made a respectful bow to the Hetman of the Horse traders. "Thank you for your hospitality."

The Hetman nodded. "Swift roads and fair forage, Wolf, to you and our Plotka."

The man turned and set off down the path to the south, Stepping mid stride to a pure-white wolf. A sturdy brown mare wearing neither pack nor bridle came trotting over to join him, and the odd duo trotted side by side into the woods.

* * *

About half a mile down the road, the Wolf stopped and Stepped back to the shape of a man. "You're welcome," he said to the air.

The Crow froze. He thought he’d been extremely subtle, following the strange Wolf by moving from treetop to treetop. He fluttered down from a nearby pine and Stepped. "To whom do I owe my life?" he asked, turning his head to study the Wolf with one eye at a time, bird fashion. "I am called Dandelion-Seeds-Floating, but as you have saved my life you may use my true name, Jaskier. Not many Wolves would help a Crow in trouble."

Up close, the Crow realized his rescuer wasn't elderly as he had assumed at first, just white haired and unnaturally pale despite his northern features. His eyes were the yellow-gold of a wolf’s eyes, even in his human shape. A sudden flare of recognition sparked in his mind. "Aha! I can guess who you are! A white haired Iron Wolf traveling alone! A rescuer of the oppressed and downtrodden!" he pointed dramatically, "You are Geralt Eight Ghosts!"

The Wolf scowled and shouldered past the Crow to resume walking south. " _White_ _Wolf_ _._ My hunter's name is _White_ _Wolf_. Formerly of the Elder Sea tribe.” He gestured at the Horse, “This is Plotka Little-Fish, an old and dear friend of mine.”

“Greetings, Plotka.” Jaskier nodded to the Horse. When she didn’t respond to his greeting even with a nod he frowned briefly, before dismissing it from his mind and turning back to the Wolf. “Is it true you cut down eight priests in their human shape in the midst of a sacred ritual?" he asked eagerly, trotting to keep up, “And the Elder Sea tribe cast you out as punishment, so now you travel the world doing good deeds to restore your honor?”

The Wolf Geralt snarled irritably, and Jaskier noted that his teeth were a tiny bit too wolfish to be natural. Combined with the white hair and skin and the golden eyes, the overall effect was as if he’d tried to Step from wolf to man and hadn’t fully succeeded in shedding the wolf’s form. Jaskier found it a very fitting look for someone with such a fearsome reputation.

"Eight priests brought death on themselves in the middle of a ritual because they were arrogant fools who meddled with things they ought to have left alone. They provoked the gods’ wrath. It wasn’t my choice to kill them, but I can’t say I regret their deaths,” Geralt gestured at his hair, eyes, and teeth, “Their ritual did this to me.”

“That sounds like a grand tale! Heretical priests, the wrath of the gods, how wonderfully scandalous!” The Crow hopped eagerly on his toes, “You must tell me the full details!”

“Why do you want to know?” Geralt stopped and turned to face the Crow.

“Because!” The Crow declared grandly, “I am a storyteller to my people, it’s my calling to collect stories! All the stories in the world! What I hear I remember, and your life is already a legend in the making! I’d love to hear a full account straight from your own mouth!”

Geralt eyed him suspiciously. “I thought young storytellers stayed at home and learned their songs by rote from the old ones. And that they primarily concerned themselves with preserving their own tribe’s history and teaching children.”

“Ah, well,” Jaskier looked sheepish, “You are correct, I'm sorry to say. I must admit you are not the only exile here. I may be able to sing the entire history of the Eyrie with word-for-word accuracy, but truth be told it’s an incredibly _boring_ history. I’m afraid I attempted to embellish it a bit, and the elders didn’t care for it at _all,_ ” he turned the unpainted side of his face towards Geralt, a gesture of trust and openness, “I lied about my name. The name they gave me when they cast me out was _Poisons-The-Past_ _._ So you see, I understand being thrown out with a name you don’t want.”

The Wolf blinked at him, then said a bit awkwardly, “I was never exiled. I have no tribe because the entire Elder Sea tribe was killed by raiders, save for those lucky enough to be away from the village when the attack was launched. None of them, those alive or those now dead, ever named me Eight Ghosts. I don’t know where that name came from, but it’s not a true hunter’s name.”

“Oh,” Jaskier's face burned with embarrassment, "I suppose I confessed my crimes for nothing, then," he turned the painted side of his face towards the Wolf and hoped the tattoos disguised the blush.

“If you don’t name me Eight Ghosts I won’t name you Poisons-The-Past,” Geralt offered.

“I accept your bargain!” Jaskier perked up, “Perhaps I can atone a bit for my past errors by spreading the true and accurate account of you and the priests! Will you tell me the whole story?” he asked the Wolf expectantly.

“No,” Geralt’s expression was forbidding.

“Oh. Well, perhaps another time, then.” Jaskier elected not to test the Wolf’s patience. After all, the man might be unusually tolerant for a Wolf, but he was still a Wolf. An Iron Wolf at that. He glanced nervously back north along the path, “Would you and Plotka accept me as a travel companion for a ways? I’m not eager to meet up with my Coyote ‘friends’ again.”

Geralt glanced at Plotka, who gave no sign of agreement or dissent, then shrugged. “I’ve no objection to your company, but you may not wish to travel where my path takes me.”

“Oh? And where is that?”

“South, to the Plains. The Lioness Calanthe of the Xin’trae pride is preparing to choose a mate for her daughter, and she has sent for me to play guard at the festivities. Any problem that a Champion of the Lion and her warriors can’t handle is likely to be an ugly tangle indeed. You can come or not, it makes no difference to me.”

“And Plotka?” something about the Horse’s lack of reaction was starting to make the hairs on his neck rise. She was clearly no mute beast or she wouldn't be left to run loose, but he saw nothing human in her eyes, either.

Geralt looked pensive and patted the mare’s neck. “Plotka goes with me. If she doesn’t like you she’ll let you know.”

“Is… she _is_ a Horse woman, isn’t she? Not a mute horse?”

“She was, once. Now she’s only the horse.” Geralt shrugged with obviously false indifference, “It happens, sometimes. She remembers enough to stay with me,” he glared at Jaskier, “and she is _not_ to be ridden or burdened without her agreement. She’s still herself, even like this.”

“Of course not! Everyone knows better than that!” Jaskier puffed up indignantly, though privately he wondered how one went about asking permission from a horse with no human mind. He’d heard of those who lost their humanity, but he’d never seen the result first hand. Those who remained in animal form too long would eventually forget their human selves. Sometimes those who faced some pain or horror too deep for their minds to accept would choose to slough off their human lives and retreat to the simpler mind of the beast. He wondered which category Plotka fell into. He knew better than to ask. 

"So are you coming with us or not?" the Wolf asked.

"Certainly I am! How could I resist such an invitation?"

Apparently satisfied, Geralt nodded at him and then Stepped without another word. He gave Jaskier a wolfish grin, seemingly just to show off the gleaming iron teeth of his Stepped form. Then he set off at a ground eating trot towards the south, Plotka easily keeping pace beside him.

“I’ve never been to the Plains before. This sounds like the beginning of an _excellent_ story!” the Crow said to himself with a grin, before Stepping and flying after the Iron Wolf.

**Author's Note:**

> "Just write up a one-shot real quick," my brain said, "that'll get the idea out of your system!"
> 
> Now I've got a half dozen loosely connected one-shots in this 'verse and counting. Sigh. I have no idea how many there will end up being. I wrote them just for myself, but if there are going to be a bunch of them I might as well post them.
> 
> AO3 played merry havoc with the formatting on this. I think I fixed all of it, but if there are any other missing characters or spaces... oops?


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